Past Tense
by Wijida
Summary: Janeway's been wanting to get home for such a long time, and now that she has...will everything at her mother's house be as she remembers it?


Disclaimer: Voyager owns Paramount, as the old tales tell. And they tell it well, does Paramount. 

Past Tense

By Manda (Mizuno Ami)

_And tell me,_

_Did you fall from a shooting star?_

_One without a permanent scar,_

_And did you miss me while you were_

_Looking for yourself out there._

                            -Train, "Drops of Jupiter"

            I didn't expect a party when I returned home. On the contrary- I expected my mother to be in the kitchen when I arrived, baking caramel brownies in anticipation of my appearance. After seven years—I wondered if she even baked caramel brownies anymore. Phoebe  never enjoyed them—it had always been me who had eaten them, every day after school, transporting home immediately just for that fresh taste, and…on the day I told her that Justin and I were getting married. When I'd told her, years after Justin's death, that Mark had asked me—we'd been on the porch, drinking coffee…three weeks before Voyager was scheduled for its maiden voyage. Maiden. That voyage was two maiden voyages- the maiden Voyage of Voyager herself, and the first voyage of _our _crew. Of my crew and Chakotay's, later merged into a team which fought a hundred battles- and won them all.

            I was a battle weary Captain- and I wanted my mother. 

            "Mom?" I opened the door and stepped into the foyer- sunny yellow walls, a hall table of polished oak standing below a mirror- I'd always hated that mirror, with my opinion of my own 'beauty' being as it was—low. I hadn't been pleased with my looks back then, and a morning to school would consist of my ignoring that mirror. Why see something that I knew was already hopeless? Subconciously, I smoothed my hair behind my ears, brushed uncertain hands down my skirt, and continued through the house. It seemed as I'd remembered, and I knew that Mommy, living alone, hadn't changed a thing.

            "Kathryn." And there she was. Gray hair—_when had she turned gray?_---trimmed short and tucked behind her ears as mine was. She looked so much like me- and I like her- and-

            "Oh, _Mommy_." I fell into her arms—we'd seen each other the moment Voyager had landed, yet it felt like eternity already, and I embraced my mother with a security I'd not felt in years.  "Mother…it's so _good _to be back." 

            "You haven't called me 'mother' since that time I lost your favorite mathematics PADD." She chuckled and released me. "Kathryn- where is he?"  

I searched her face, looking for a sign that she was kidding…that somewhere; there was a joke I didn't understand. 

            "Who?"

            "Chakotay." She smiled. "I've made enough for three," At my questing expression, she continued. "Phoebe can't make it, sweetheart—she's got an art show in SoHo. " 

            "That's all right. I've waited seven years…I can wait a while longer, Mother." She led me into the kitchen, and I smarted; of course, I knew where the kitchen was. _I haven't been gone for that long, Mommy._Why would she think otherwise? "It smells wonderful."  
            "Caramel brownies, Kathryn. I knew you'd want some."  
            "I've tried to replicate them—but they don't come out as well as yours do…replicators can't do the same." _Replicators…Voyager…none of it was the same as a real family. _I missed Voyager and my crew- it was that simple, and she knew it. But just being in the presence of my _mother_, again…it meant that for as long as I wanted, I could forget _Captain_ Janeway. 

            "And where is he?" That damned question again. I get back for the first time in years, and we have our first real moment together—and she's asking me about my best friend. "Oh, Mommy…he's not coming. He's gone…home."

            _Home. Now, that's a silly idea, Kathryn. Where was he going to go? He doesn't have a home…an apartment in San Fransisco? It's not at all like him—he's gone. Let him go._

"It's a shame, Kathryn…darling, I wanted you to bring someone from your crew home…and I was so certain that you would have brought him. Your letters said so much."

            "I know." I reached out to pat her arm assuringly. "I'll bring him, soon…and he'll love your brownies as much as I do." And I chewed on one with such…why did they taste different? After so long, and the dreams…they tasted… wrong. "Did you change your recipe?"

            "No…I've used the same things I always did." She pointed to the countertop and I examined the recipe, on _paper_, pinned to the wall above the italian-style cooking stove, between strings of garlic and a ragged bunch of dried wildflowers. "A cup of sugar, a cup of melted caramel…a tablespoon of salt…"

            "A teaspoon," I breathed, reality dawning on me as I trailed off and stared at the paper. It was clear to me, even in Aunt Martha's scrawled handwriting, what the recipe told me to do. _A tablespoon? How could…it's so clear…_ When did my mother get so _old_…it couldn't have happened in seven years?

            "I can't imagine…" But I had to go, and I hurried out of the kitchen into a hallway which wasn't familiar anymore, through a house of many rooms and out into the fields, breath catching as I knew that I _had_ to see the one thing I was certain would have grown older but never changed- my tree. I could climb the branches just as easily as I ever had, and I knew that once I was up there I would have the view worth running for—the sun setting over the gently sloping hills which would be covered with cornstalks in the summer…and I would sit contentedly until it was gone.

            But the tree wasn't there anymore, reduced to a stump not having been pulled, and I stared with disbelief at the rings which clustered in the center of what was left of my solitude, my hiding place from the world. I needed it more than ever, and it, like everything else in my life, had executed such a drastic change that I felt my grip on sanity losing its bearing. And I sat on the hard earth to press my cheek against weathered wood in a silent testimony…

            "Kathryn…"

 _I'll be home soon, Daddy…_ From my tree I could see the world…I saw the fields growing, dancing their _corps de ballet _with fronds dipping and bowing in the wind… It was a deeper voice I heard, deeper than Daddy's, but I knew it was him… he was the only person it _could_ be.

            "They're not finished dancing yet, Daddy...and it doesn't feel like I am, either."

            "Kathryn, wake up." This time insistant, and I opened my eyes to find my skin scraping against…wood. The fresh scent of outdoors, dirt beneath my fingernails as my hands scraped the earth lazily. Chakotay sat, legs folded, beside me with his hand soothingly placed on my lower back. "It's me. Your mother…"

            "Must be worried sick," I cut him off, pulling away from the stump and pressing a palm against my cheek. It was callused, and as I cast my gaze downward, I saw the impression of thinly grained wood was so prominently impressed apon it. "How long have I been gone?"

            "She told me it was about an hour. Not long…" He smiled at me. "This was your tree?"

            "It was." Past tense. I always hated it. "I used to climb up here…sit for hours and watch the cornfields. And there aren't even cornfields, anymore."

            Chakotay nodded, and I felt his hand moving slowly up and down my back- I'd never realized how soothing it was to have someone be so tactile towards me. It was usually me…I would slide my hand onto his shoulder, smile up at him for yet another emergency solved by his solid presense, his quick thinking in the face of danger itself. He was my solid rock, my island, and as we sat on the packed dirt, cold seeping through the cloth of our…I hadn't realized what he wore until now- he wasn't on Voyager anymore, and neither was I. We both wore civilian attire…and I came to the realization that he looked so confident in his ivory shirt and khaki trousers. I only wish I had felt as confident as he seemed to be.

            "You're going to be all right, Kathryn." 

            "You're really something else, you know." I breathed, shaking my head and pulling to my feet, bare soles chilled against the ground. I'd forgotten I'd removed my shoes…hours ago. Where were they? "Chakotay…I may be all right…but it's all happening too quickly for my tastes. I can't take the…"

            "Pressure." He finished. "And at what point did you lose control here, Captain? At what point was it that you found yourself drowning with no way to keep afloat?"

            Foolish thinking. Was I drowning? Land ahoy…if I could only reach out and touch it. So I reached, and placed my hand on his shoulder, fingers curling into his shirt as my eyes searched his face for that answer.

            "I don't know." I replied, shaking my head, hair fluttering in the breeze created by that simple movement. "I don't know, Chakotay…it all happened when…we got home. It doesn't feel the same anymore…I don't know what to do with myself. Mommy's…changed. My sister is a famous amateur artist, my finacee is married to another woman. I don't know where I fit in anymore."

            "You fit in your uniform, and you belong in Starfleet." He countered. "We know that much, after seven years of following the greatest Captain in Starfleet History."

            Was that me?

            "That would be Kirk, wouldn't it?" I quipped, letting my hand slide away from him. But he took it, grasping strong fingers around mine and not letting go. Strange that—I didn't want him to. 

            "No. That, Kathryn Janeway, would be you." His other hand reached up to touch the tip of my nose, and settle on my chin, which he tilted upward. "And I'm lucky enough to have found that. Not many people have the luxury of falling in love with history."

            _Not many people…in love with history?_

            I couldn't move…couldn't breathe, and forgot for the moment that I was standing in the middle of an open field, beside my old best friend…who was long gone into the 'history' of Indiana life with the ghosts of my past. And I stood beside my furture, my best friend who could never be cut down or taken away. 

            The sun was setting, and triggered my knowledge that it was late- we needed to go home. 

            "Mommy will be waiting," I murmured, and we still remained rooted to the spot where had reminded me of everything. I felt better already, felt as if I did belong somewhere, now. In the presense of this man, and this man alone. 

            "What's for dinner?" His smile was still there- I had reason to believe it had never left, and that thought alone comforted me. I wanted to see that smile every day, wanted to feel that presence every moment, and have the knowledge that it was strong enough for both of us.

            "Corn stew, I suspect. She thought you'd be coming with me."

            "And I am."

            "Be warned," I stepped back, severing contact although…I didn't want that at all. Leading him toward the house, on the trek that would take us to my mother, and the new changes that I'd forced myself to face alone. No…I hadn't faced them at all…I'd run away. And now I would go back. With support. "My mother's getting older. She may have added excess salt…too much pepper…"

            "She's a Janeway." Chakotay responded, reaching to loop my arm through his. "And a Janeway doesn't get old, Kathryn. They get smarter…and more beautiful…. with the years."

            Maybe he was right. Maybe I was getting smarter, accepting everything because I was older and wiser. Or maybe not…I hadn't quite acknowledged that one aspect yet. That one aspect which made me who I was…

            "No. Not quite." 

            That kiss, that moment…was spectacular beyond anything which I had ever experienced. His arms around me, my hands on his chest…I could never recall a kiss more sweet than that. And never did I want to.

            "It seems I was right." He joked, as we parted and I chuckled with amusement at his expression. 

            "About?"

            "A Janeway becoming smarter with the years. And," He kissed me again and laughed. "More beautiful. Now…let's get home, shall we?"

            "Of course." 

            Arms linked together, we walked through my old haunt… and I could never remember a better moment.

            Home Sweet Home.

-Fin

Back To The Night Owl


End file.
